


Where Dreams Begin

by Rabid_X



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Dreams, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 13:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabid_X/pseuds/Rabid_X
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas time! Dreams! A Damsel (so to speak) in distress! It’s a short Harlequin, folks, cliches abound!<br/>written in 2006  For the The Sentinel…Harlequin Style! challenge over on ts_ficathons on Livejournal</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Dreams Begin

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Where Dreams Begin is by Lisa Kleypas. Jim, Blair, Simon Banks and Cascade, WA belong to Bilson and DeMeo’s.  
> A/N: For the The Sentinel…Harlequin Style! challenge over on ts_ficathons.  
> “1. The only hard-and-fast requirement is that your story must share a title with a book or a movie. (It doesn't have to be a Harlequin. Feel free to choose Silhouette or one of those corny Hallmark movies or one of the mainstream romance books… sky's the limit on this!) When you post your story, provide a link to the book or movie that you have chosen as your inspiration.”  
> The Amazon link to the book: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0380802317/qid=1142022419/sr=2-1/ref=pd_bbs_b_2_1/002-9652647-5940011?s=books&v=glance&n=283155
> 
> A/N the story: Keep in mind we are talking late 90’s technology here. We think we have trouble with dropped calls? ;> Roni, Weylin and Margaret are of friends of mine. I always thought they had cool names. *mwah* to them. My first Sentinel tale and it’s schmoopy!

_The world was white and Jim squinted against the glare off the snow. He hated that; the way there could be clouds in the sky but the snow on the ground made what light there was bounce back into his eyes. As he focused, he could see gray-green triangles of evergreens making a stark circle around the clearing. There was fresh snow falling in big, heavy, wet clumps, icing everything like a baker’s confection. He shook himself against the cold, stamping his feet to keep warm._

_It was still, quiet enough that the snow hit the ground with tiny spluttering noises that, for some reason, made him think of tomato sauce hitting a pan. He chuckled, breath rising in plumes before his face. He definitely needed to eat soon. Everything made him think food._

_Where the hell was Sandburg? God, if he had a nickel for each time Blair kept him waiting he could buy an island. And island would be good right about now. Someplace warm and tropical, with trees that smelled like saffron and sandalwood, not camphor and attics. He sneezed and shook his whole body. If the little pest didn’t come soon, he’d be as frozen as those breakfast burritos Sandburg always nagged him about._

_Damn it, he was thinking about food again._

_Finally, he heard a faint squeak and crunch. Someone was walking through the thick snow. Blair pushed between the trees, snow clinging to his hair and dark coat. He gave Jim a sheepish smile and shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his pea coat. Then he buried his face in that crazy-long scarf of his as he got closer._

_“About time.”_

_“Sorry, man. I got turned around.”_

_“Figures. Didn’t you use the compass I gave you?”_

_Blair grinned again and shrugged, turning to look at the circle of trees. “Ah, you know me. Thought it was an easy trail.”_

_“Nothing about this is easy, you know that,” Jim chided._

_Blair snorted. “Yeah, trust me, that one I know._

_They stood in silence for a while, Jim feeling the cold starting to creep up past his knees. They were starting to shout at him. “Hey, chief, let’s get out of here.”_

_Blair nodded and turned to look up at him. There was something wrong. Jim could feel that as sure as the cold. He just couldn’t put his finger on it._

_“Yeah, here’s the thing. I can’t go, Jim. I have to stick around, you know that.”_

_Jim sighed and reached out to touch Blair’s hair. He always touched Blair. He needed to touch Blair, even when his hair was getting damp from snow. “Don’t. You have to come.”_

_Blair shrugged and started to walk away. “I can’t.”_

_Jim watched him go, frowning and struggling with the words that would not leave his frozen brain. He watched until the snow covered his boots and crows finally returned to the trees. They fussed and cawed at him until he began to move…_

…And nearly fell off the couch. 

When was the last time he’d gotten so worked up in his head to just fall over? Now his hand stung where he’d caught himself on the rug and his right knee was really screaming at him where he’d banged it on the coffee table. He felt gangly, all arms and legs, just like when he was fourteen and a growth spurt had left him the tallest in his class. 

“From a dream,” he grumbled and headed to the bathroom.

It wasn't like he’d never dreamed about Sandburg before. Hell, the guy crawled into them as quickly as he had Jim’s life. Some of them were normal - exaggerated snippets of their everyday life, some of them were surreal - Blair becoming a Greek chorus to everything that happened. None of them, however, had scent and feeling to them. Not like this.

*****

A phone call brought him the greasiest, most wonderfully meaty pizza for dinner. That and a couple of beers put everything into perspective for Jim. Of course his feet felt cold. It was snowing outside and the loft windows needed weatherproofing again. The pine smell had come from his jacket. The department’s Christmas Tree drive was last week. There was probably some sap still stuck somewhere. He made a mental note to take his jacket to the cleaners tomorrow. He could wear his trenchcoat for a couple of days.

Sandburg scent? They shared the apartment. There wasn’t a surface or room that didn’t hold some traces of him somewhere. Crows? The damn city was full of them. There was probably one outside, making racket. 

“Mystery solved. That’s why they call it detective, folks,” Jim muttered as he flipped on the television.

God, he was talking to himself. A few days sans Sandburg and he was going nuts, wasn't he? Blair was up at a cabin, doing an early Christmas with some friends. He’d taken off the first day of Winter Break, promising to be back by the twenty-third. Jim was supposed to be enjoying the silence, not filling it up with his own random nattering.

Well, damn it, he would enjoy it. Watch some games, maybe play some poker with the guys, get behind on his paperwork, stuff like that. Now, if the rest of Cascade got with the program and laid off the crimes, he'd have a perfect little vacation. 

*****

“You wanna tell me why were you busting a purse snatcher?”

Jim shrugged and looked out of Simon’s office window. It was snowing again. 

“I was in the mall. He practically ran into my arms.”

Simon chuckled. “The mall? You hate the mall.”

“I know. Don’t remind me,” Jim turned and leaned against the window sill. The cold felt kind of good right now.

“Last minute shopping, huh?” Simon leaned back in his chair. “You fill out a report yet?”

“I wasn't last minute shopping,” Jim protested, arms crossing, “And yes, I filled out the report.”

Simon’s eyebrows raised. “Uh-huh. You gotta go back there don’t you?”

“Only for one thing,” Jim groused, pushing off the sill.

“He’ll be back in a couple of days, Jim,” Simon said.

“I know that!” Jim snapped. 

Everything was making him peevish today. The mall had been crowded with shoppers, the mingling smell of colognes, perfumes and grease from the food court threatened to overwhelm him more that once. Clashing, tinny Christmas carols coming out of each store left him with a headache that would not go away. And then a guy _reeking_ of pot smoke careened into him, carrying a pink and silver purse that definitely did not match his outfit. 

In the ensuing struggle to hold onto the perp, the purse had somehow slipped over Jim’s arm and that’s how the responding uniform police found him - pinning a cursing bundle of thieving pothead to the floor, wearing the tacky purse. That image had taken apparently all of ten minutes to spread through the entire department. He’d endured nearly all of Major Crimes cat-calling the moment he’d walked in. 

“Calm down, Ellison!” Simon barked back. Then a smile broke over his face. “I think Sandburg would look better with a blue purse, by the way. Match his eyes.”

Jim glowered and stalked to the door.

Simon’s chuckle followed him out of the office.

*****

_It was still cold, still snowing and he was still standing there, waiting. The crows had flown off, almost seeming to laugh at his foolishness. He could see Sandburg’s footprints in the snow, trailing off between the trees. There was something wrong with them but, for once, he couldn’t put his finger on it._

_God, the cold was almost numbing. He was going to have trouble feeling his feet if he didn’t get moving. Stamping them a few times, he started off. It shouldn’t be any trouble following those tracks._

_As he pushed through the pines Jim started to worry. Blair liked snow, but wasn't prone to staying out in it long. He was much more of a curl up in front of a fire sort of guy. If he stayed out too long, Blair would get shivers of near seismic proportions._

_And where was the trail? There had to be a trail. The cabin was supposed to be easy to access and sitting in a cluster of others, one of those little “retreat” areas that people from the city visited. Someplace where they could enjoy nature without the inconvenience of actually camping. Blair had said that Weylin and Roni considered not having a hot tub roughing it so there should’ve been signs of civilization close by. There was only an endless run of pines though, and the distant hissing of… water? Jim picked up his pace._

_The hissing grew louder, an echoing, frothy whoom adding to the noise. The ground started sloping down and Jim broke into a jog as the trees parted at last. A waterfall crashed over a short cliff, an inky black sluice churning up icy chunks of the river it fed._

_The air was heavier, wet and so cold it bit his lungs with each breath. He could imagine ice crystals forming on delicate tissue with ease. No denying it was beautiful out here, but it was a stark, lethal beauty._

_The ground rose up fast on the other side of the river, the bank barely big enough for four people to walk along it. Scrubby pines clung to the wall, bits of rock face showing through the snow. He caught the faintest smell of tar, grimy exhaust and salt, olfactory signs of a road somewhere up above. What he didn’t catch was a whiff of Sandburg._

_“Chief? Blair?” Jim called out, looking for any trace of his friend._

_“Over here, Jim.”_

_Jim turned his head and saw Blair standing next to the river. “Hey, c’mon, Chief, you’re too close there.”_

_“Nah, it’s cool. I won’t slip,” Blair shot him a grin, “You’re here.”_

_“Well that’s a nice sentiment but I’d rather you step back about three feet,” Jim said, making his way over._

_Blair put out a hand to steady him as he sunk deeper into the snow. “Should’ve brought snowshoes.”_

_“Yeah, thanks for the advice, Mountain Man,” Jim grumbled. “Hey, where are your gloves?”_

_“Left them on my desk.”_

_“Sandburg,” Jim sighed, annoyed._

_“It’s cool. I don’t really feel cold right now,” Blair tugged him closer, raising up on the balls of his feet. “Thanks.”_

_“For what? Nagging you yet again?”_

_“For everything,” Blair said and kissed him…_

Jim woke, gasping at the frigid sensation on his lips. His hands were clasping nothing, body leaning into air. Looking around wildly, he saw he was in Blair’s room, almost ready to fall over into his bed. 

“What in the hell?” He muttered, backing out.

Everything in his body screamed there was trouble, big trouble. His heart was racing, his breath coming fast. The pulse of his blood raised goosebumps along his skin with each hammering drum. He was a second away from a full-blown panic attack and there was not a damn thing in the apartment to warrant it.

“Blair?” He whispered, not fully sure why.

Cold flooded into him again, nearly knocking him to his knees. He grabbed the door frame for support as he gasped for air, trying to will warmth back into his body. The shivers subsided quickly and he raised his head, looking around wildly.

“No,” he gasped.

There was a brand new pair of gloves - tags still attached - sitting on Blair’s desk.

*****

“No, we left yesterday morning,” Roni said. “Weylin’s dad got an earlier flight in…”

“Have you heard from him since?” Jim barked, nearly fumbling his cell phone as he raced down the apartment stairs.

“We called him once we got back to tell him the roads were still clear.”

Jim swore. “I didn’t get an answer.”

“Well the cell reception is pretty bad out there sometimes,” Roni’s voice was getting anxious, “Or he forgot to charge it again.”

“Yeah,” Jim clicked the phone off and jumped into the truck. 

It was going to take him a little under two hours to get to the cabin and he wasn't sure he had that long. Calling ahead to the police in the area had gotten him nothing but vague niceties and a promise to go check the cabin but not to worry. Inter-district cooperation netted that much at least but it was hard not to yell and scream. 

That was Blair out there, possibly under the snow or, God forbid, under the water. Jim found himself hoping that he’d get a call from the local police, telling him everything was fine. That way he could continue at a more leisurely pace and maybe throttle Sandburg when he found him. Then maybe, just maybe, if Blair was repentant enough Jim would make his 5-Alarm chili and they’d enjoy the rest of the weekend.

“Maybe,” Jim groused to himself.

As he drove, he tried to apply Sandburgian techniques to his dreams. There had been a growing sense of dread running through each of them. And the obviousness of the local was not lost on him but was it a real place? And what about the last one was bothering him? 

Of course there had been the numbing feelings of cold and dread he'd been left with but something else… Blair’s tracks. He slammed a hand down on the steering wheel. That was it. They hadn’t been deep enough for someone weighing 150 or so pounds to have left. Combined with the loneliness of the place and Blair’s almost reluctant look… the hairs rose all along Jim’s arms and his skin crawled.

“You had better hold on, Chief.”

*****

Even with the steep incline making going slow, Jim almost missed it. Acute senses or not, the fresh and heavily falling snow, combined with the dull slick of wet pavement had turned the world into gray and dirty white tones. He barely caught the slightly darker slashes of dirt thrown up and dusted with only a light covering of snow. They hadn’t even had the chance to start freezing. 

Jim jerked the truck over onto a narrow shoulder and prayed no one would come barreling down from above. He jumped out, eyes catching the glint of metal and… car paint on the rock face that made up the shoulder of the down hill lane. No god dammed guardrail on the other side because the shoulder wasn't wide enough to support it. He peered over the edge and saw a furrow, car wide, in the small ledge of ground below. It gave way to a short cliff and yes, there was the river, moving dark and fast. 

“Blair!” He shouted and was answered by his echo.

Growling in frustration, he ran back to the truck and radioed in his location. The tinny reply of assistance on its way helped calm his hands as he tugged rope out of the toolbox. He knew he could get down there, it would just be a little tricky. 

Ten minutes and three layers of skin off his knees later and Jim knew that tricky was an understatement. He moved too fast, he knew that, but he couldn’t wait. His make-shift harness would hold, so would the hitch of his truck. All he had to do was not hit the water and risk hypothermia and keep the dirt pattering down from above out of his eyes. 

“BLAIR!” He hadn’t gotten an answer the last time he bellowed but he had to try. Maybe if Blair heard his voice it would help him… something. 

“You’d better be in that car, hanging from your seatbelt and woozy. Just woozy. Please don’t be in the water.”

Then he heard it, through his own labored panting - breathing. Someone down below was breathing in that car. It was faint but it let him focus. Blair was down there, maybe twenty feet below and alive. Jim could see the car, tipped over on the driver’s side and balanced on the edge of the water. The windows were just fogged enough that Jim felt his heart jump. Blair might not have been down here long enough to get too hypothermic. 

Scrambling as carefully as the rock face would allow, Jim made his way down. His feet threatened to slip on the icy edge of the bank and he clutched the rope for support. The last thing he wanted to do was overbalance the car by grabbing the bumper and send them both into the water. 

“Sandburg, I need you to talk to me,” he said, voice loud over the water. “C’mon, Chief, wake up.”

There was a soft groan that made Jim’s heart race. “Don’t move, okay? Just stay still and I’ll get you out of there.”

“J-Jim?” Blair’s voice was faint and slurry. “What… oh God.”

“Yeah, that’s about right. Where are you hurt?” Jim called.

“Uh… the side of my head, my knee and my ribs. And I think I’m going to throw up.”

“No! No. No you’re not. Listen to me, no throwing up, Sandburg,” Jim snapped. “That is not allowed.”

“Hey man, fuck you,” Blair groused back, a bit of the slur fading. 

Despite everything, Jim smiled at that. Blair was not given to cursing often but when he got going, he did it in three or more languages. In fact he was muttering in them now. “Yeah yeah, keep bitching like that and I’ll leave you down here.”

“I won’t tell you where I hid your presents,” Blair replied.

“They’re in your office.”

“Cheater,” Jim saw Blair’s head come up as he complained. “Oh man, oh man. Jim? Can you maybe hurry?”

“Doing my best, Chief, doing my best.”

*****

Washington State Police Sargent Margaret Zielinski stared down in disbelief as the rescue team slowly raised the basket containing Blair Sandburg. She couldn’t figure out, for the life of her, how that car hadn’t gone right into the drink. She also couldn’t decide if Detective Jim Ellison was insane or brave for repelling down the icy cliff face in make-shift climbing gear. One thing was for sure - he was dedicated to his partner.

The rescue workers had insisted that Detective Ellison go up first, giving the two man team space to extract Sandburg. Now Sgt. Zielinski watched as Ellison paced close to the edge, face tight worry. Every now and then though, he stopped, cocked his head and then called out something reassuring. Almost as if he could hear over the thrum of two trucks, an ambulance and the whine of the wench. 

“Keep your eyes closed, Chief!” 

Sgt. Zielinski jumped at that bark and looked over. “There a problem?”

“He’s afraid of heights,” Ellison said, eyes never leaving the slowly rising basket. 

“Glad we didn’t get a helicopter then,” she said.

“He definitely would’ve thrown up then,” Ellison sigh and finally looked over at her. “Thanks, by the way.”

“You of all people should know it’s part of the job,” she replied, smiling. “Just let me take his statement when they’ve patched him up? I hear you can be a real bear to work with.”

She gave him a wink and started to head for her truck as Jim watched her, stunned. She turned around when she got to the door. “Oh, Detective? Captain Banks wanted me to tell you that you have until the twenty-eighth off. Said something about using your vacation days or loosing them.” She flashed another smile before climbing in and picking up her radio.

*****

“Oh wow, you got a tree,” Blair said, eyes shining as he took in the five foot pine in the corner. “Decorated and everything. I am impressed.”

“It didn’t smell too bad,” Jim demurred, helping Blair out of his coat and onto the couch. 

“It smells great, man. Very Christmasy,” Blair gave him a huge smile as he settled into the cushions. “Oh hey, my menorah.”

“Yeah, I wasn't sure what candles needed to be lit so,” Jim shrugged as he hung up both their coats. “But I though it looked nice in the window sill. Unless you want it someplace else.”

“It’s perfect, now sit down and stop hovering. I am fine,” Blair patted the couch.

“Just let me get a fire going.”

Blair watched, amused, as Jim got the fire going, made tea and fetched a blanket. After several more passes and questions about needing pillows and was it warm enough Blair stomped his foot.

“Enough. I am warm, my pain is very tolerable, the tea is good and I see you put my presents to you under the tree, you office sneak, now sit down, for crying out loud. All the bustling is making me dizzy.”

Jim sighed and sat down. Blair sighed and shifted closer, demanding with his shoulder to be held. Like it was the most natural thing in the world for them to sit like this. Jim hooked his arm around Blair and gave him a careful squeeze. Apparently it was natural because Blair tilted his head to lay on Jim’s chest.

“Comfy?”

Blair chuckled. “Very much so. You gonna tell me what’s got you spooked?”

“Is it that obvious?” Jim closed his eyes, wishing they wouldn’t do this.

“Oh yeah. You’ve been vacillating between staying very close and running away. Not that I mind the fruits of your escape,” Blair toasted the tree and presents with his mug, “But I can tell you’re freaking out.”

Blair waited patiently while Jim sat there, jaw ticking slightly. He knew Jim would spill eventually, he just had to let his Sentinel work it out. It took a while but Blair learned sometimes you had to not force an issue.

“I dreamed about you,” Jim said at last, eyes still shut.

Teasing Jim about what kind of dreams crossed Blair’s mind but the tension in Jim’s voice stopped him. “That’s not unusual considering our close proximity and relationship. I dream about you sometimes too.”

Jim’s eyes opened. “What kind of dreams?”

“All different sorts, which I will tell you about after you stop looking for a way out of this conversation,” Blair leaned forward slowly, minding his ribs, and set his mug on the table. “Now, what sort of dreams were you having?”

“I think…” Jim began, hesitancy lacing every word, “Ah… I think they were prophetic. And I know how stupid that sounds but I knew something bad had happened to you. In fact I think I knew it was coming. I saw the place, the snow, and the river. Hell, I smelled the trees!”

Jim got up to pace as he talked, needing to move to keep the words coming fast. “You led me right to the spot your car crashed, Blair. You kept talking about not being able to come back with me. You, you thanked me for everything and then…” he broke off and scrubbed his face with his hands.

“What, Jim?” Blair asked softly. “What then?”

“You kissed me goodbye,” Jim said miserably.

Blair sat there, a little stunned, and absorbed everything Jim had thrown at him. Then he stood slowly and walked to stand in front of Jim. Carefully he reached up and pulled those big hands away from Jim’s face.

“Listen to me, Jim,” Blair spoke quietly and intently, “You’ve had things like this happen once or twice before. They’re warnings, just like now. Something in your connection to me makes them stronger where I am concerned. I didn’t die…”

“This time.”

“Jim,” Blair said, voice and face suffused with worry, “Please. I did not die. This time, okay? You got to me, just like last time, and made sure I stuck around. In fact this time I think you got to me before your body actually showed up.”

It was Jim’s turn to look surprised. “What?”

“I heard you,” Blair let go of one of Jim’s hands to tap the side of his head. “I heard you in here telling me to hold on. You were, man, you were mad at me for even thinking about giving up. So I waited because I knew you’d find me in time. And now I’ve got some busted up rubs, bruises, a knot on my head, a brace on my knee and one hell of a car repair bill, but I’ve got all my fingers and toes and my life.”

“And your life,” Jim repeated.

“Yeah. And you,” Blair said, squeezing Jim’s hands. “I… do have that, don’t I?”

Jim searched Blair’s eyes for a good, long minute. Then he lowered his head and kissed Blair softly, emboldened by the nervousness on Blair’s face.

“I’d say you do, chief.”

Blair smiled and pressed his head to Jim’s chest. “You think the next dreams will be better?”

Jim wrapped his arms carefully around Blair. “I think we can count on it.”


End file.
